Author's note: Actually, I prefer to think of Veronica as a sociopath.

Disclaimer: Rob Thomas owns Veronica Mars. Isn't he the lucky one?

X X X X X

Once again it occurs to me how lucky I am. Not only do I have the good fortune to be born without a conscience, I also have the benefit of an exceptional intelligence and the ability to control my temper.

Most people like me -- who likewise hit the "no conscience" portion of the genetic lottery -- tend not to have those particular blessings at all.

I've reasonably certain I have Keith Mars to thank for that.

See, there are rules to social interactions and about when and where to display emotions. A smart person can pay attention to things like that and figure out the rules. Life is kind of like a television show, and I'm the star. As long as I keep following the script, I'll be okay.

It can be something of a tedious chore, sometimes, but I put up with it because I have to. I don't really like most other people. Technically, I don't like anybody, but I can appreciate certain people for their intelligence or their ability to do things for me.

I don't really hate anybody, either. I didn't even hate Lilly when I killed her.

Anyway.

After the events at Logan's house, and after I was sure he wasn't going to go running off half-cocked and make wild accusations against his father, I went home and gave the matter of the tape some thought.

Logan was going to press to get in there fairly quickly. I probably could talk or sneak my way in tonight -- a wig and a uniform and I could be a server -- but that still carried too high a risk of getting caught. I had no idea what Celeste's plans were for tomorrow and I couldn't count on her being home a second night. Ever since Jakey's unfortunate incarceration she's been aggressively trying to restore the Kane name and image and most nights of the week she's out donating to a charity, organizing a charity, or hosting something charitable.

So that meant I had to get in there tomorrow, plant the tape, and be sure that Duncan didn't realize I had the time to do it, while still fending Logan off for another day.

Hmm. It's hard work being me, sometimes.

I supposed I could simply ditch school -- which I did on the average of once an eclipse, so the odds are I'd get away with it -- and simply go into the Kane estate when no one was home --

Only there was never really no one home there. The servants, if nothing else. And that carried the same risk of being caught.

Not to mention that their security system, since it was probably designed by someone approved by Clarence Weidman, was likely going to be something James Bond would have trouble cracking.

This was going to take some thought.

Needless to say, I didn't tell Dad what I'd found. When the time came to clue him in, I'd have to come up with a reason why I withheld possible evidence. Probably the best tack to take was that I wasn't sure until Logan and I had found that tape in Lilly's vent.

The next morning, I figured it out. On the drive in, I told Logan, "You have this overpowering urge to play video fames with your best buddy Logan."

"I do?"

"You do. I'll tag along. Then I'll wonder off and indulge myself in a little creative home repair."

"Good idea," he said.

And it was, if I did say so myself. Still, if I simply showed up one day at the Balboa County Sheriff's Office and handed over the tape, any half-decent attorney could point out that I could have gotten the tape from Aaron's poolhouse as easy as Lilly's vent -- especially after I admitted that finding the camera was what had made me suspicious in the first place.

(As for why I'd been in the poolhouse bedroom: Changing clothes to swim. My Dad might suspect I have an active sex life but I'd rather not confirm it for him. It might kind of curtail my freedom to get the things done I needed done.)

So I was going to have to do more to make this work -- to make it real. But I couldn't tell Logan about that part.

When we were driving to Duncan's after school, I said, "Try to play something I wouldn't like."

"Do you like any computer games, Veronica?" Logan asked.

"The Sims. Otherwise, not so much." No lie. I liked the Sims. Being able to control people's lives was a lot of fun.

Kind of like the real world, actually, with a bit less chance of things backfiring.

"Still," I continued. "One of those cutesy cartoon things has less chance of driving me away than a combat game with extra gore."

"Right. One side of extra gore, hold the cutesy."

Duncan was surprised to see me, but he didn't say anything. I saw those looks he was sending my way, though. Longing looks.

"I didn't realize you were coming," Duncan said.

"Logan wanted the company," I said. "And I realized I hadn't been over to see you in a while anyway. How are things going?"

"Fairly well," he said. "I don't think people are sneering at me nearly as much as they used to."

Poor, poor, pitiful Duncan. Still, he probably wasn't lying.

Not really my concern, honestly. Some people could pick themselves up after something horrendous happened to them. Some people couldn't. Duncan was one of the latter.

It was possible that, after Aaron was publicly accused of the crime, that Duncan's reputation might rebound; but there were unintended consequences for every action.

"Good to hear," I finally said. "One of these days you'll look around and find that they're simply ignoring you."

"Probably the best I can hope for," he said.

Probably.

"So, anyway, what're you in the mood for?"

Logan looked at me, then said, "Something extra gorey."

"Always in the mood to kick your ass with any kind of weapon or combo," Duncan said, picking out a game. "Veronica? Are you sure this won't bother you?"

"If it does, I'll let you know."

I watched for about ten minutes and said, "I'm letting you know. I'll be back in a few minutes." On the way out of the room I leaned down to Logan and, under the guise of giving him a quick kiss, I said, "You had no idea."

He looked confused for a second but wisely said nothing.

I went to Lilly's room and set a chair up underneath the vent.

Then I noticed an odd-looking pen on the desk nearby. I remembered Lilly telling me about her special "secret message pen" that she was going to use to carry notes to her "luvahs." I picked it up. I couldn't risk Lilly's maybe having written or received a note about me in those last days before I killed her.

Then I took out a screwdriver and carefully unscrewed the vent.

I looked inside. Nothing in there, at the moment. Then I took out a cloth, wiped off Logan's and my fingerprints from the tape, and, putting on a pair of gloves, placed it inside. Thank goodness, there wasn't that much of a layer of dust in there. Air blowing through tended to leave vents nice and clean.

Then I took off the gloves and cloth and shoved them back in my bag, then I put one of the vent's four screws back in. This left the vent cover dangling,

Two of the screws I tossed to the bed.

And now for the fun part.

See, again, if all I did was find this myself, then it'd be easy to cast doubt on its origin.

But with a couple of other people there, even with one of them being the prime suspect --

Well, hell, I would have preferred doing this with Celeste in the house. But if Celeste had been there I never would have gotten inside.

I screamed, dropped the screwdriver and the remaining screw, and fell off the chair intentionally. When I hit the floor, I lay there.

Duncan and Logan came running in about fifteen seconds later.

I got up, faking wooziness, and heard Duncan yell, "What the hell is going on here?"

"Dude," Logan said, "I had no idea."